Exhaustion
by GoldenPheasant
Summary: She was too tired to hate him anymore anyways.
1. Prologue

**Hey lovelies! So I'm starting a new multi-chap for the best couple ever: DRAMIONE! This is just a prologue that flowed forth from my pencil one study hall. I know it's EXTREMELY short - other chapters will be SOOO much longer.**

**I don't really have a clear idea of where I'm going with this, but I do know for sure some scenes that I am planning, so I'll be working towards them. Bear with me. **

**Disclaimer: I really do NOT see why these are necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, do you REALLY think I would spend time on here instead of like... staring at Tom Felton forever?**

The first thing he noticed about her, as she trudged into the Heads' Compartment on the Hogwarts' Express, was that she looked tired. Like she hadn't slept in months. She made quick and quiet work of stowing her belongings overhead before taking a seat and looking silently out the window.

She looked _so_ tired.

Her amber eyes looked tortured, and even as he thought the word his mind flashed to the scene that had taken place in his home months ago (the same scene that still frequented his nightmares). The scene of her writhing on his marble floor in agony, as his cruel aunt inflicted _Crucio after Crucio_, and he stood there wanting to stop it, to stop it all, but not having the courage. (Yes, she's a Mudblood, but she's still human, isn't she?)

Her eyes look like she's carried the weight of the war on her shoulders all these months, like she's still haunted by it 9just like he is).

He places his book (a Muggle love story that quite intrigues him) in his lap and leans across the compartment to stretch out his hand silently as an offering of peace. He wants no trouble with her this year (Merlin knows they've both seen enough hatred to last a lifetime).

And even though he doesn't say these words out loud, when she places her hand in his and locks her amber eyes onto his silver ones, she seems to agree with him completely.

She's too tired to hate him anymore anyways.

**Yeah, short. I know. Again it WILL get much more interesting. The rating will remain T for now... it is very likely that will CHANGE later on...**

**Review PLEASE!**


	2. Chapter 1 The Fire

**Disclaimer: I am convinced this is a mechanism to drive all fanfiction authors into depression. No, you imbeciles, I own nothing. Unfortunately, that includes Tom Felton :(****. My sole hope is that someday… someday… my husband will be blonde, blue-eyed, built and British. 4 Bs baby…**

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><p>When Potter and Weasley drop by their dorm later on to visit, he immediately notices her discomfort around the redhead. The last he had heard, in the immediate post-war celebrity status the trio had enjoyed, the two were attached at the hip and headed on the next train to paradise.<p>

Obviously his information is out of date.

He and the bookworm were on opposite ends of their sitting area silently reading a book when her two sidekicks knocked on the door. Granger put down her book on the coffee table and got up to answer the door. Draco groaned internally when he heard Potty's voice resound throughout the room. Apparently the gods were decidedly against his enjoying a peaceful first night back.

"Well hello, Miss Head Girl."

"Oh, shut it, Harry. Get over here! I haven't seen you all day!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her embrace the dark-haired boy warmly. when she pulled back, the Weasel opened his arms, apparently expecting the same reception. Draco watched her hesitate, one beat, then two, before quickly hugging him and then pulling away before Weasel could even respond. Draco raised a single, mildly-interested eyebrow. Potter attempted, and failed, to covered up the awkward moment with a cough and an inquiry.

"Yeah no kidding. Where've you been all day, 'Mione?"

"Well, I was late getting to King's Cross, and just barely got on the train on time. Then I got to sit for about 2 minutes before Malfoy and I had to start Head Duties. After assigning rounds and making sure all the students were settled, I was just too tired to come visit you guys."

"Oh. Right. Well, we just came to say hello. You do look pretty worn out. We'll just go and let you rest. Bye, Hermione, take care of yourself."

Granger laughed lightly before closing the door behind them. "Bye, Harry. Er, bye, Ron." She turned back to face the boy she shared the dorm with.

Draco quirked a single, mildly disinterested eyebrow.

Granger sighed in exasperation and props a hand on one hip. "What?"

Draco simply shrugged and returned to his book. "I didn't say anything."

She eyes him suspiciously as she makes her way back to her chair. "You want to, though. Your ferrety little mouth is just _dying_ to say something snarky. Go on then. Let's hear it."

He simply smirks and turned a page."I didn't say anything Granger."

And as he reads about this Elizabeth's utter loathing of Darcy, he can feel her eyes glaring holes through his forehead.

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><p>He notices several things about her in the first week.<p>

She doesn't go down for breakfast anymore. She's up and dressed long before he is, but when he makes to head downstairs, she just sits there on the couch, rechecking the homework they both know is already perfect.

When she eats lunch and dinner, the seating arrangement is always the same. Granger. Potter. Weasel. The one in the middle engages both his friends in separate conversations, but all three never interact together. Draco can feel the tension from all the way across the hall. And he would almost feel sorry for the torn Potter (almost), if he weren't too busy trying to pry a horny Pansy Parkinson off his arm.

She always makes sure she goes to bed after he does. He notices this too. There's always something to keep her up just a half hour later. A Potions essay. Prefect round schedules. There's always something. It's like she feels that if he's up when she's asleep, something horrible will happen. He supposes, if he took the time to really think about it, this would mildly irritate him. But he never does. Why should the bookworm's sleeping habits concern him?

The thing he notices that most perplexes him, however, is her eyes. He's never really bothered himself with them before (_why should he?_). But he gradually realizes (actually, the recognition washes over him like a tidal wave) that there's something different about them. Like there used to be a light there that someone brutally extinguished.

Her eyes look dead.

The moment he notices it comes on a Saturday night, when she enters the portrait hole late in the evening after returning from the library. He looks up briefly from Collins' ridiculous proposal (_Seriously. That man is an imbecile if he thinks that is going to win this woman's hand_). "Potter and Weasel stopped by earlier looking for you. Told 'em you had locked yourself up in the library."

"Yeah I know. They found me." She trudges over and curls up in an armchair near the fire.

He sighs and tosses his book on the coffee table. "Alright. That's it."

"That's what?"

"What the bloody hell happened between you two?"

"Who two? Malfoy, what the hell are you on about?"

He stares at her like all the brilliance accredited to her has flown out the window, over the lake, beyond the Quidditch pitch, and landed somewhere deep in the Forbidden Forest never to be seen again. Evidently, it has. "Who two? _Who two?_ You and the Weasel! That's who two! You're acting like a couple of bloody first years!"

She was sitting up in her chair now, no longer relaxed, her arms folded firmly over her chest in indignation.

"Oh, well I'm _so_ sorry, Malfoy. I guess I just didn't realize that _my_ personal life was any of _your_ business!"

"It is when the awkwardness between you lot is obnoxious enough that you may as well be screaming at each other! Merlin, you know something is wrong when you three make _me _uncomfortable! Me! And I don't give a damn what any of you do!"

"We broke up alright! We broke up, and he acted like a child, and I can't even see his face any more without wanting to hex it! Much like your ferrety one, actually. Merlin, are you happy now?" She jumped out of her chair and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door after her.

Draco sat stunned for a moment. Not at her outburst. He had expected her to get angry, expected her to scream at him. What surprised him was the look in her eyes as she had done so. They had been alive. And suddenly Draco noticed what had been off about her all this time.

Her eyes had been missing the fire that had always been there.

But for some reason, when she was irritated with him, when she was screaming at him just like they used to (before the world nearly fell apart before their eyes), she was fierce again, she was passionate again.

When she was fighting with Draco, she was Granger again.

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><p><strong>Miss me? Silly question. Of course you did! And you're gonna let me know in a review, right? Right?<strong>


	3. Chapter 2 The Mission

**Erm... I'm alive! (Cowers as people throw things at her) I know, I know, I'm horribly unreliable, but for some reason I was having MAJOR issues writing this story. I don't know why, but here it is!**

**AANNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDD, if you love me, you'll go read Cordelia Darcy's story for Thor as soon as she posts it (ahem... subtle hinting, Elizabeth). I've already read it and edited it and it's MEGA CUTE!  
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**Disclaimer: I officially disclaim. Ya happy?  
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From that night on, Draco vows to himself to abandon his previous notion of "having no trouble" with Granger this year. He decides to take it upon himself to irritate her as much as possible, at every given opportunity. Not because he hates her (he thinks the only people he can ever _truly_ hate are the Death Eaters he's counted among). He's doing this because of the light in her eyes when she screamed, when she yelled as loud as she could what she _really_ felt. He's doing this because of the fire burning there that had been missing.

He's doing this because Granger isn't Granger unless she's fighting with Draco.

Draco refuses to admit the other reason to himself. He refuses to acknowledge that he found that light, that fire to be almost... beautiful. He realizes that he's never thought anything else in life to be truly beautiful. When he was little, he used to attribute the word to his mother. Her piercing grey eyes. The air of elegance about her. The mannerisms of a true pure-blood witch. All of these he considered to be beautiful. But as he grew older, as he began to see the war for what it really was, to see his life, his side of the war for what it _really, truly _was, he began to see his mother differently as well. She was a cold, prejudiced woman who was too weak to resist the cruelty of her husband.

His father had once told him their cause, their set of values, their part in the endeavor to purify the wizarding world was beautiful. Draco knew his father had lied the first time he was forced to torture an innocent woman. None of it was beautiful. None of it. It was twisted, and dark, and demented, and horrific.

But this witch, with an obsession with knowledge, and unruly hair, and the most infuriating need to always be right... she was beautiful. She was good, and light, and beautiful. (Annoying as hell, but nonetheless...)

And it was that fire that epitomized her beauty.

"Merlin, I'm going as mental as Lovegood."

"Well, they do say talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

Draco's head snapped from where it had been staring at the empty fireplace to where Granger was standing in front of her closed bedroom door. He took a half a second to glance over her appearance. Her uniform was neatly pressed (as always), her curly hair was in a wild disarray (again... shocker), and the dark circles under her eyes told Draco she had gotten minimal sleep last night, if any.

"You should know, Granger. You've been certifiable for years. And somehow, it seems you've managed to make your hair reach a whole new level of frizzy. Congratulations."

"Oh shut it, Malfoy. It's too early for insults."

"Oh, alright then, Granger. What time would be best for you? I'm flexible."

She scowled at him before grabbing her bookbag off the countertop and shoving past him, making sure to bump shoulders with him and mutter a quick "ferret" as she went by.

Draco simply smirked and called out "know-it-all" as he followed her out the portrait hole.

They continued calling each other names for the entire walk down to the Great Hall for breakfast, never noticing the odd looks they were getting from the other students ("Is that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy... walking together?")

When they parted ways at the doorway, Draco headed to his seat at the Slytherin table with his trademark smirk planted firmly on his face.

This was going to be so much fun.

**Does anyone else think this story sucks as much as I do? Feel free to correct me in a verbose review. :)**

**Aren't I just the queen of subtlety today?  
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